大象传媒

My name is Jim Tuke, known to my friends and colleagues in the
Fleet Air Arm, as Tukey.
My tale begins 1939 when Joe Braithwaite and I were school friends and then work mates. Joe was later to commit suicide because of his war experience. When we both reached 18 years of age at the same time we decided to enlist in the Royal Navy. That was in July, we were accepted and told to wait.

September came and Joe was told to report, of course I wondered about my application. I need not have worried because my orders came through to report a week after him. We both reported to HMS Duke that was a training base for stokers. We both had time to think about the future in the service. Joe decided to remain a stoker, I decided that being locked up down below decks during any action was not for me, so I transferred to the Royal Naval Air Service as it was then called. After five weeks basic training Joe and I were split up and I was not to see him again until after the war.

On the 8th November 1941 I reported to RAF Locking at Weston-Super-Mare where I was to begin my training as an Air Mechanic AirFrames. I stayed there until 18th March 1942 there I met Eric Hewitt who came from Sheffield and became very good friends. Once again we were spilt up when the course ended and despite every effort to trace him (during the war years asking everyone I met) I drew a blank every time. I have done everything I know to trace him. Even when I formed the Yorkshire Fleet Air Arm Association he never joined. So where he is, is anybody鈥檚 guess?

There were other good friends there but time has dimmed the memory and I cannot remember the names without looking them up on the photos that I have of them all. It was a happy time there at the mechanics training and in Weston.
2nd April 1942 I reported to RNAS Crail in Scotland not far from Dundee. I stayed there until 3rd November 1942. Crail was called HMS Jackdaw. It was a training camp for officers doing 鈥� bumps and circles鈥�; I was attached to 786 sqd. An incident happened while I was repairing a Fairey Swordfish with another mechanic. We could hear this plane coming in low and loud and when we looked up it just crashed on the edge of the runway and burst into flames killing all the crew - who we understood later to be Australians. Why it was trying to land on our airstrip for is anybody鈥檚 guess, maybe it was returning from a raid or just was short of fuel, I will never know. The plane was an inferno and the two of us ran towards it to see if there was anything we could do, but there was nothing. We both got a rollicking for going near it.

A few days afterwards I was transferred to 836 sqdn where I was to remain for the next two and a half years.
On 4th November 1942 I went to Macrihnish on the west coast of Scotland (if God has made a worse place on earth I have yet to find it) it was a submarine base and a place where the squadron I joined was doing rocket-firing practice. Two days after I joined (I didn鈥檛 witness the incident) a mechanic (electrical) was tragically killed by the flames from a rocket attached underneath the wing of a swordfish. He was a married man from Manchester and had two kids. His name was Fletcher. It happened when the aircrew were practising rocket firing and his job was to plug in under the wing, so, whether there was a short circuit, or the pilot had accidentally left the cockpit switches on I don鈥檛 know. It was a lesson I learned and never once forgot because many, many times I plugged the rockets in since.
About a week after I joined there was a single engine small plane on a test flight that crashed and killed the test pilot. The mechanic who went to his aid was recommended for a medal. Compare that to what me and the other chap did and we got a right telling off. We stayed there for a couple of weeks then it was off to Cornwall, by road. No joy ride in those days sitting on a wooden seat in the back of a lorry loaded with gear. We stayed there a few uneventful weeks practising more bomb aiming and rockets.
From there to RAF Thorney Island for mine lying off the coast of France. We were there for about three months and at that time we had only six swordfish aircraft. One day the RAF had a lone German bomber dropping his load. Whether he was part of a raid on another part of Britain will never be known, he just dropped his bombs and scarpered.

Another incident was when we were doing repairs that were needed; we were in the open ended hangers and a few yards away there was an RAF petrol bowser refuelling a bomber when all of a sudden there was almighty bang and the petrol bowser just blew up with debris flying all over the place. One or two bits and pieces came flying into the hanger and did minor damage to our aircraft, needless to say we gave verse to a few choice words of our own. Thankfully no one was hurt, it turned out that the RAF mechanic pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and a spring loaded lighter hit the ground and sparked setting light to the bowser and the bomber.
Another incident which was very sad for the squadron and morale was the night when all six aircraft took off one night for its usual mine laying raid, that night we waited and waited but no aircraft returned. On the raid one aircraft was shot down and the crew of three were killed, another was also shot down and the crew of three were taken prisoners, the others were damaged and landed at other stations and came back the next morning. One of them crashed into the white cliffs but the crew survived.

From there we went to BallyKelly in Northern Ireland about four miles from Londonderry to work up and wait for the ships to be ready. It was there where I caught pneumonia and went into hospital, (I was later told I was only there for four days) for what I thought was a fortnight. I do know for a fact that no one came to visit me. Ted Reeves who came from Bournemouth and was my mate at that time, I say at that time because some months later we split up which was not unusual then, it seems that I have gone to work and was working on the ground when I just collapsed and Ted stayed with me till the ambulance came.

What can I say about Londonderry first of all you have to remember in those days there was no television and wireless sets had valves, we were so ignorant about life. I remember once going to a dance there with the other lads and dancing when a girl I was with asked me what religion I was. I said catholic and like a puff of smoke she suddenly vanished and there was I like a big lemon stood on the floor all-alone. She must have passed the word around because could I hell get somebody else up!

The day came when I packed my hammock and toolbox and left for Gourock in Scotland to join my first ship the Empire MacCrea, which was a Merchant Navy purpose built grain carrier. We called them MAC ships. It was on board that I met Stan Travis an A/M(A) and Dougie (Dolly) Gray who was my engine mechanic A.M.(E).
Our plane was known by its logo that was painted on its side as C Flight 3. On its tail was painted the words Merchant Navy. For the readers interest there was only two flights with those words painted on and they were A Flight and C Flight.
How can I best describe our living conditions, well I describe them as we called them! Pigs Corner. There were seventeen of us in one room with no air, only piped air and sometimes that reeked of fumes simply because we were next to the engine room. It was noisy as you can imagine. We had no lockers and had to live out of our kit bags, down one side were eight double bunks, by that I mean one above the other at right angles to that one set of bunks. Opposite was another set further on was another set, and another set further on. Seating space was the floor. For extra space we had to sit in the mess room, which held, I think, three tables. There was a little space further on which sometimes somebody would sling his own hammock. To wash we had two sink basins and opposite we had one shower. The meals were cooked by Merchant Navy cooks (there鈥檚 a misnomer if ever there was one) and had to be brought from the stern of the ship out in the open and along the deck. Now here is the tricky bit, which brought groans and a lot of ribald language. When we reached the door to go down into the mess room from the deck, we had to hold the steel door open with our shoulder, bearing in mind both our hands were holding a tray, step over a foot high gunwale (to stop the sea getting in) balance yourself against the ships movement onto a three inches wide steel step and so downwards to where everyone was waiting. The first time yours truly and the ship was at anchor then, I slipped and landed on my backside.

That incident was to be repeated many more times by the other mechanics. When the ship was really rolling I witnessed an incident, which could have had drastic results if it had been carried out and not stopped. It was when I was coming off watch that I saw three Merchant Navy crew, who had hold of the cook and were swinging him as if to throw him overboard. Suddenly a great big shout rang out and one of the Merchant Navy officers came into view demanding to know what was going on. A lot of heated arguments took place in which he seemed to accept it and everyone went on their way. The result from that was that food was cooked better and improved a lot. At the end of the trip the cook left and a new one came along. I must admit he was a great improvement.

On our first trip out, which was my first time at sea, I was sick for a few days. We had a pilot who was chronically sick and unable to do any flying both outward and coming back. Another pilot replaced him but that is another story.
My memory of that trip is sketchy and I was excited by it all. To see the escort ships come to meet us was a thrill and to stand on the flight deck out at sea and look at all the ships in convoy was a sight I will never forget. The escort ships, by the way, were Corvettes manned by the Royal Canadian Navy. How they lived and worked on those ships still marvels me to this day. They were so small and looked so fragile they just seemed to go through the waves not over them.
After about fourteen days (I say fourteen days because that was the average time it took) we arrived at Halifax in Nova Scotia. We were granted shore leave whilst our ship unloaded its ballast of water and reloaded with much needed grain.
To a lad who was not yet twenty and had never been abroad before, the sights that I met were unbelievable. All the lights were on, and the food that was on sale! I was dumbfounded. I remember going into a caf茅 and when it came to dessert, I ordered some apple pie. I was asked if I wanted some ice cream on it and I said that you don鈥檛 put ice cream on apple pie. That was how ignorant I was in those days. My mother had not taught me much.

Another time was going ashore with Stan Travis and Brummie Davis. We were asked by a tramp if we would buy him some aftershave lotion. He obviously didn鈥檛 use it, so we asked why, and he said to drink of course. He was told we would buy him some to drink there and then or we would pour all of it down his throat. No hesitation, down it went, the lot.

My worldly education certainly started in Canada. Another thing I learnt was that no one under twenty one could buy any liquor. A person had to buy a liquor licence. Wm (Pop) Morrison bought one for me, which I have kept to this day. Most of the trips were uneventful, but one stands out in my mind. It was on outward convoy, we had a Danish ship and it kept lagging behind every day. Of course the Canadians told it to keep up.
Anyway, one day there was an almighty explosion, it was this ship that had just blown itself out of the water. It caused a right panic I can tell you. It turned out to be engine failure, and not an attack. Another convoy ran into a very severe gale but it didn鈥檛 spring up until after the planes had taken off for their dawn patrol. The planes made it back, that is all except one. To cut a long story short, the planes coming in to land had to be manhandled, but this last one had to have the ship literally placed under him bow first instead of stern first, which was the correct way. The aircraft was just like a helicopter hovering above the flight deck unable to land. The wind was extremely powerful. We all had to grab what we could of the plane and pull it down. It was dangerous work to put it away in the hanger, but somehow we made it. It was my job to get the covers over it and with Dolly Gray鈥檚 help I finally did it. When Dolly eventually got to examine his engine he discovered there was only petrol left in the carburettor. The pilot received a decoration and so did the ship鈥檚 Captain. It was a marvellous piece of seamanship鈥ut the gale still blew and the convoy was given the order to scatter.
When the gale had blown itself out, the escort ships and our aircraft had the job of finding them again. We found every one of them. Those gales were plentiful and they gave me for one, a lot of scary moments. I relish those moments when I have to relive them.
I recall when on an outward-bound convoy from Halifax we broke down due to engine failure near Newfoundland and had to put into St Johns. The Royal Canadian Navy took us in hand put us up in their rest camp under canvas for a couple of days which we enjoyed very much. Outside the harbour (this was early summer) were a couple of small icebergs. Whilst in harbour the order was given 鈥淗ands to bathe鈥�, without more ado, we had swimming trunks on and dived off the Flight Deck, being loaded and low in the water. What we forgot in the excitement was the water was freezing. But we enjoyed ourselves.

My time on the M.V.AMASTRA was unmemorable so I cannot remember much at all to talk about.

It came to my time to finish with the 836 Squadron and to say goodbye to pals. The time was December 1944. Coming over on the Irish Ferry I happened to talk to some American Air Force pilots who told me they had spent some days looking for Glenn Miller, the dance band leader, whose plane had crashed and was feared dead. It was to be announced to the world that day. I like to think that I was one of the first to know.

It was back to HMS Daedalus to await a further posting. On the 14th February 1945 it was up to Scotland again to HMS Peewit not far from Dundee. I was there until 24th September when I was sent to HMS Godwit. At Wellington in Shropshire I worked in a sugar beet factory (making sugar) and here I stayed until my demob.

That in a nutshell is my wartime experience. I cannot remember every little incident during the war so I hope that the bits that I have, the reader will find of interest.

Jim Tuke A.M/(A) F.X. 92916
AKA Tukey.

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